🪖 Remembering

There are so many to remember and honor on Memorial Day. So many to silently thank for paying the ultimate sacrifice in defense of American freedoms, even if they aren't what they once were.

But I remember my friend Chase. I met him through ROTC in college. He was a Sergeant in the Army Reserves, I was someone who expected to spend a large chunk of her life in the Army. We became fast friends and did everything together. 

In August 2003, Chase was deployed to Iraq. I wrote him constantly; he replied when he could. The months went by slowly as I waited for him to come home. I went to my classes and prayed for his safety. 

That deployment, Chase's second, was meant to last six months. That didn't happen. 

It didn't happen because he was killed on his twenty-second birthday in November 2003. The humvee he was riding in hit an IED, which sent the truck careening into the side of a building about ten yards away. Insurgent came out of the building and slit the throats of my friend and three other soldiers who were in the vehicle with him.

I learned of all of this five days later when my ROTC commander came to my American Government class to inform me. He knew of my friendship with Chase, and he knew that I'd want to know what had happened. I screamed in the hallway, and he carried me away to his office.

Two weeks later, Chase's body came home in an Air Force cargo plane that carried 37 other bodies. A week after that, I went with my ROTC cohort to attend his funeral. His mother had asked me to give the eulogy, which I did. 

It took an entire hour to get through three brief paragraphs because I had to keep stopping to cry and compose myself. It was, and still is, the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

And so, every day I think of Chase and the type of person he was. On Memorial Day, I remember his commitment,  even if he didn't agree with the Iraq Invasion in the first place. He was gentle, kind, and supportive. He truly cared about other people and never put himself first. Chase was the one person I could always count on, always turn to, always love.

And I did love him. I still do. Life without him has been a painful adventure punctuated by occasional bright moments. And lots and lots of memories of our time together.

I think that's what keeps me going most days. The memories.